A Fall from Grace
by Quel F. Idium
Summary: In an alternate ending of the Cold War, Russia has come out on top. Now America must fight the superpower and rescue his friends before he can be killed in the the process. With the support of his fellow countries, America is able to face Russia.
1. The Demon and the Hero

**Quel's Notes: **Hello, everyone. Well, here is my first installment of A Fall from Grace, whose title is still actually up in the air. It's definitely not as long as I wanted it to be, but I suppose it is fine for now. Also, if you're trying to figure out what the heck some of the words in italics mean, check the bottom of the chapter. I'm blending in the languages of the countries. I thought it would be fun. Well, I hope you enjoy! Leave any suggestions for me, please! I would love all the help I can get. _Merci, mes amis!_

**Warnings: **Mild violence. Okay, hardly any violence. But it'll be coming soon!

**Disclaimer: **Hetalia: Axis Powers and all of its characters do not belong to me. But if they did, many of the characters would receive big, big, big hugs. Also, I do not dislike Russia. He's actually one of my favorites! He just makes for a really good villain.

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><p>Doors creaked open. Light raced to get through it, trying to make it far into the room before the doors would stifle it. The walls were lined with guards, adorned in gold and reds, austere and cruel. The dimly lit room echoed the sounds of the newcomers off the walls, elaborating the struggle that had entered the grand hall.<p>

A man was shoved down the hall, pushed by his captors toward the front of the room. Looming far in the distance, seated comfortably in a chair embellished so that it was almost a throne, was a large figure, amused by the scene playing out before him. His legs were crossed, one over the other. He was flanked on his left by three young men who looked pitifully uncomfortable next to the man. On his right was a lithe man, looking at the same scene with feigned indifference.

The man retaliated against his holders, only to be crudely thrown to the ground before a small set of stairs, leading up the Russian in his lavish chair. Russia stood, a heinous grin twitching his lips upward. America refused to look up at the demon.

"_Amerika_," Ivan said to the man lying on the ground below. Upon his speaking, the smallest of the three on Ivan's left, little Latvia, flinched. Ivan's smile only curled more vilely.

America was in a tattered uniform, damaged from his last battle with the Russian front. He was exhausted, barely having enough energy to defy Russia. Russia, on the other hand, seemed well rested with an endless amount of strength. Although he was dressed in a high-ranked military uniform, it was obvious that the man had spent little of his time in the midst of battle, unlike his opponent.

"_Amerika_, my friend, why do you not look at me? Are we not friends? Come now, do not be spiteful."

But Alfred did not raise his head. He merely pushed himself off the ground, now resting on hands and knees. When Ivan was not acknowledged, he gave a slight flick of his head to one of the guards. The guard shot his arm forward at Alfred, grabbing a bundle of hair and pulling up. America stifled a gasp, but shock was splayed in his eyes. Russia's eyes glittered, bemused.

"Now that I have your attention, _Amerika_," he said, beginning a slow descent on the stairs, "maybe you will listen to me, _da_?" America tried to jerk away his head, but the guard only held tighter on his hair. "We've had fun playing our game, _da_? But it seems as though our game has come to an end. You see, _moĭ drug_, your comrades have all surrendered. Why not take chase? It shall serve you well in the long run, _da_?" He was just standing in front of Alfred now, bending down slightly and smiling playfully. America's lip curled up in a snarl and he spat at the lowered Russia, defiance burning in his eyes. Ivan's look of amusement faded as he wiped his face with a handkerchief pulled from his chest pocket. He knew that such a reaction was dissent.

"If that is your choice, _moĭ drug_, then so be it. It is too bad, though. To have you as an ally would prove fruitful for both of us. A sad loss, not having you, but we will find a way to go on without you." But Russia was only feigning disappointment. He had known from the beginning, since he had decided to play his 'little game,' that America would never comply to being allies based on Russia's terms.

America only scoffed. The guard tugged at his hair, but America did not stop. "Like hell I'd ever join the Reds, Russia. I'm the hero, remember? I'll defeat you, even if it costs me my life."

Russia's interest spiked at that. "That can be arranged," he stated coolly. "And it would be fun if your friends watched too, _nyet_?" On cue, guards that had been lining the walls of the hall stepped forward into the dim light, and revealed their captives. England, France, Canada, and others were bound and gagged so that they would not have been able to warn America of their presence. Now, the gags were removed. Upon their appearance, America tried to break free from his holders once more, worried more so for his friends than his own safety. He was shoved down once again, flat against the floor. "Always a hero," Russia said curtly.

He had grown tired of his toy. "This is your last chance, _Amerika_," he suggested, "pledge yourself under me and I will spare your life. If not, then you will die here. Either way, _Amerika_, it is checkmate." He didn't even attempt to hide his boredom, having turned away from the man below him and instead looking up at the quivering Baltic nations standing beside his perch. China, on the other side, had a look of disgust on his face.

"Why make him grovel, _Èluósī_? He has already denied you. Why spare him another chance? The great _Měiguó_ will not suddenly turn into a whimpering dog. It is time that he finished off, once and for all." China's gaze connected with America's for a single instant; America's were full of spite, China's held contempt.

"Ah, you spoil the fun, _Kitaĭ_," Russia stated, his eyes flickering to his ally. "But I suppose you are right. _Amerika_ offers me little pleasure in our games now." Russia looked over his shoulder at the helpless man, then to his comrades, who looked on in horrified and abhorred.

Russia walked up the steps and sat back on his lounge, turning to face the man who he would be sentencing to death.

"Damn it, Russia! This isn't a game. There are lives at stake here, do you understand? People are dying!" America yelled up at him. Anger flared in his eyes at the monster sitting before him, acting as if he were a god.

"Wah, what a scary face," Russia teased, amused by America's fiery outburst.

"Shut up, damn it," America replied angrily.

"How unkind, _Amerika_. But you're so predictable. It is no wonder I have grown tired of you, _da_?" Russia smiled—a cruel, hellish smile. He nodded his head to the other guard who had been holding down America. Obliging, the guard removed his saber from its sheath and held it over Alfred's back.

As he raised his arm up, cries rang through the hall. "America!" "America!"

And the sword came down.

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><p><strong>TranslationsPronunciations**

**_Amerika_**-Russian for America

**_da_**-Russian for Yes

**_moĭ drug_**-Russian for My Friend, muy droog

**_nyet_**-Russian for No

**_Èluósī_**-Chinese for Russia

**_Měiguó_**-Chinese for America

_**Kitaĭ**_-Russian for China

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><p><strong>Sneak Peek<strong>: Can America get away from Russia's mighty grasp? Can he save his friends from imminent doom? And who are the mysterious people who help America? Find out, next!


	2. Peace Ablaze

**Quel: **Hello, everyone! I've finally finished Chapter 2! It's longer than the first (nearly doubling in size) so I hope it comes out a lot better. I made a few adjustments to Chapter 1 (some minor editing that I missed) and that will be added soon as well. This chapter was supposed to be longer, but then it probably would have been too long to read. Well, at least this one sets up the background of the story.

**Author's Note:** I took a look at who last viewed Chapter 1. I was surprised by the results! Someone from France, Poland, El Salvador, the Philippines, and the U.K. visited my page, amongst a few from the U.S. I hope that people from all over the world can enjoy my story, if they care to read it.

**Warning: **Contains mild violence. Nothing too brutal. Just a couple of guys getting their skulls smashed in, is all.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers or any of its characters. I wish I did, but England's magic failed to work for me.

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><p>'<em>Don't worry, <em>Fratello_, I'll save you.'_

Those were the last words Romano had heard from his younger brother before he, Germany, Spain, and a few others had escaped from Russia's trap. Now Romano was held captive by Russia, watching as that stupid hamburger bastard was brought before the Russian.

Romano wore a scowl behind his gag as he was hidden when the blonde was first brought into the room. And when they had been shoved out from the shadows, he didn't even care to give America a glance. He was pissed that he had been captured and left behind. But more so, he wanted to know why that bastard Spain had left him behind.

_Bastards. They're all a bunch of morons, especially that rotten potato eater._ But Romano knew that, at least with Germany, his brother would be safe.

He turned his head toward the group at the front of the hall, barely understanding the echoes of the words they exchanged. America was on his knees with Russia towering over him. It was useless to attempt an escape and America was at the end of his rope.

The hostages knew he had used the last of his energy in their attempt to escape Russia's trap, but it had been in vain. Now many countries had been taken over by Russia while others were to be destroyed if they did not comply with his desires. Russia was ruthless and cruel, Romano knew, but he didn't realize how satanic the man actually was.

America was struggling against his bind, still trying to fight against Russia with whatever energy he could muster. But he was tired. Even his best go at yelling at the Russian barely seemed like a roar of courage. Yet he was still trying to be a hero; he was still trying to save his friends, even if it cost him his life.

And in this case, it would. Russia had one guard pinning America down while the other unsheathed his sword and held it over the young man's back. Russia had rejoined the group of onlookers that stood around his pedestal. To his left, the Baltics were beginning to shake madly. America had attempted to rescue them, too, and they couldn't do anything to help Alfred out of fear of Ivan. China, on Russia's right, glared down at Alfred. He had also tried to help Yao, but to no avail. China knew that Alfred had good intentions in mind, but he also knew that turning against Ivan was suicide. Yao had admired America for his acts of bravery, although most had been caused through his constant acts of stupidity, but even that admiration was held in low regards. China, had he even the chance, would not have lifted a finger to help America unless there would have been some reward in compensation—and he knew there would not have been.

Romano looked back at Alfred on the ground. Russia still wanted to play with him, but the game was over and Alfred had lost. _The bastard; he got himself into this mess and no one can help him out._ Lovino knew America was done. One of the strongest countries in the world was down on his knees, about to be put out of his misery. There was no chance that he would come out alive. The sword would come down and out quickly and cleanly, and America would be left to wallow in his own blood until he bled out or drowned. This time, there was no chance that the pitiful man before the mighty Russia would be the hero. No, not this time.

In the back of his mind, Romano replayed the words of his brother, the only chance of light in this godforsaken land of Russia's.

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><p>"Italien<em>!"<em>

"_Germany, go! I'll take care of him," America yelled over the roar of fires ablaze, ushering Germany to flee the building. But the burly man refused to leave his friend behind. He turned on America, but he had already gone back into the fray. Man, that boy was stupid. As Germany began to venture back into the smoke, he felt eyes burning into his back. He'd forgotten about Russia's men, too worried about his friends to realize the danger _he_ was in._

_The black-clad men began to approach him, and Ludwig took on a fighting stance. He'd fight, kill every god damned one of Russia's men, and rescue his friends. He wished he knew how Italy was, that he wasn't alone and scared, pinned to the wall or a gun held to his head by Russia's minions. He hoped that America was doing everything he could offer to protect their loved ones._

_Germany forced the thoughts from his head. At this moment, he would have to worry about fighting his own battle. Only then was he free to find Italy and help America. The surrounding men sprang, one after the other. Some held back, readying their guns if Germany tried to escape the fray. Ludwig met every man with his fists, crushing skulls and ribs, snapping arms as if they were twigs. Countries were always stronger than the people. Germany had always felt it unfair for the men to fight against enemies they were far from defeating. But even so, his resolve would not be compromised and he continued to barrel his way through the ranks. He felt knives cut into his skin, but it only made him fight harder. He brought his knee crashing into stomachs, causing men to double in pain. They began to retreat, falling behind the lines of the gunmen. Blood covered the ground and was soaking into Ludwig's clothes. But he wouldn't have to continue this battle._

_With a sigh of relief, Germany saw that his own soldiers surrounded those he had just defeated. The gunmen were unarmed and taken captive._

"Deutschland_, sir, we will handle it from here. Hurry and provide support to those who have infiltrated farther in," spoke on of Germany's head commanders. He nodded in agreement and turned again to the blaze surrounding the battle grounds._

_Other countries' men were arriving to fight along side their leaders to take down Russia. Whether they succeeded or not, however, was a whole other plan of action._

_Germany quickly took in the scene and analyzed the situation. A large group of nations had come to Russia's make-shift base just outside of St. Petersburg in order to meet with him and conduct a meeting over a peace treaty. Russia had recently been sending warnings of possible war to other countries, showing most hostility towards America and his allies. Some cities within France and England had already suffered from attacks warding off America's continued involvement in the Cold War. However, Russia had not let the tries goes as they had expected. Instead, Russia had moved from the base back to his home in Moscow. He had rigged the entire building and its surroundings with explosions. He was trying to rid the world of America and, knowing that America was to be leading this little venture, was planning on obliterating him and anyone else who allied with him. Russia was taking little chances._

_He had, of course, left guards just within the lines of safety; enough so that any stragglers or injured could be taken in as prisoners. Others were sent in to fight the countries who did not succumb to fear or injury. Yet they were losing ground fast. Some countries had entered the building before it blew up in flames. While the countries were stronger than normal humans, an explosion of such proportions could still be deadly. Even knowing this, others rushed in to help their trapped friends. Italy had gone in, trying to find his brother who had ran in. Spain had tried to pursue the two, but his fighting skills were needed to fight off Russia's men. He was supported by Greece and Turkey who, surprisingly, had overcome their bickering contempt for the other and fought back-to-back. Turkey was throwing blow after blow; Greece fought with skill and grace, hardly showing any hint of his usual laziness._

_Germany snapped back into reality. Italy, Romano, and America were definitely within the burning building. He rushed toward the building only to be blown back by a giant explosion just before the building's opening. Countries and men were sprawled all around. The ground rumbled and trembled as the last of the shock waves disappeared. It was as if Russia knew he nemesis was inside the building, risking his all the save those who were trapped inside._

_But, as the smoke cleared, figures began to shift from the rubble of the damaged door. The Italy brothers came forward from the grey cloud, looking miserable from the explosion. But they were hardly scathed, other than a few scrapes and bruises. Italy saw Germany lying on the ground from the stunning explosion. While he had been close to the explosion, few shrapnel had erupted following the explosion and his worst damage was from a small cut on his forehead when he was thrown back. Flinging himself over Germany and sniveling, asking if he was alright, Italy was wholly glad that his best friend was still alive._

_But the joy was short lived. America rose from the fire, looking beaten. Romano was looking around for Spain, who was slowly regaining his balance from the impact of the explosion. Greece and Turkey were in similar stances as they helped each other from the cool snow that blanketed the ground. But the assailants were also regaining their ground. Some had already tackled Romano to the ground while others were trying to pull Spain down. Germany was already up and protecting Italy. As one of Russia's men approached, Germany readied himself for a battle. America would not allow it, however. The younger man swung his fist into the assailant's head, blood beginning to trickle from his mouth._

_America turned to Germany and Italy. The Italian flinched. He had never seen such ferocity in America's eyes. America had lost his brother and his closest friends. Canada, France, and England were the first to be captured by Russia as a means of mental torment in hopes to cause America to crumple to his knees._

"_Take Italy and go!" he bellowed over the roar of battle. Germany wanted to stay, he had to. But the determination in the American's eyes wouldn't allow for any objection. Ludwig nodded and helped Italy rise to his feet. Italy looked over at his brother who was now struggling to free himself from his captors. "Go! I'll help your brother, Italy. So just get out of here! Go! Spain, Greece, and Turkey are already heading out. Follow them, and don't come back!"_

_Italy felt tears well in his eyes as he was tugged along by Germany. Leave his brother behind? It seemed an impossible thing to do. Yet, here he was, seeing his brother look up in complete abhorrence at their retreat._

_America was barely on Romano's captors when he himself was toppled over and struggled with his own attacker. Spain looked back with pain in his eyes at Romano being left behind. But Spain knew he had to help those who needed it. Romano was capable in taking care of himself; he would be fine for the moment._

_Italy looked at the dismal scene before him as tears rolled down his face. How could such destruction have happened? They only wanted to make peace with Ivan; now people were being hurt and killed. And for what? To bring down a single nation? Whatever Russia wanted, Italy never wanted to find out._

_He gave a single last longing look to his defeated brother and called out to him. "Don't worry, _Lovino___. Don't worry, _Fratello_, I'll save you."_

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><p><strong>Translations and Pronunciations<strong>

**Fratello:** Brother in Italian

**Italien:** Italy in German

**Deutschland:** Germany in German (You had to have at least known that one)

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><p>Well, now the chapter is over! We've heard Lovino's side (Aw, poor Lovi!) and Germany's. I hope you've enjoyed this installment and are on the edge to find out what happens next!<p>

Anyone care to leave a review? They're deeply appreciated and will be rewarded with virtual cookies! Unless you don't like cookies...

Chapter 3! Coming in just a few days!


	3. The Hero's Saviors Part I

**Quel:** Two chapters within 24 hours! That's a record! I've been spouting out ideas in my head on where I'm taking this story, but I just don't have enough time to type it up. And I don't like writing out my ideas, because they tend to change when they're typed. But I remember them very well and will hopefully get them typed up soon, especially since one of the ideas will be incorporated in the next chapter. I'll be pumping out chapters like no tomorrow when summer break is finally here, though.

On another note, more viewers! I know I shouldn't be so giddy about having more story read, but it's kind of cool to see people in other countries looking at your story, you know?

**Warning:** Emotional breakdown and some violence. I'm no good at writing violence.. I should practice.

**Disclaimer:** China's magic doesn't work. I still don't own Hetalia. Darn it!

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><p><em>Clang.<em> Metals sounded as they exchanged a single blow. The sword that the guard had held over America crashed into the floor, followed by a tiny, four pointed star-shaped weapon. The guards looked up in surprise, as did Russia and his companions. America opened his eyes and looked at the fallen sword before looking about the room. Russia had risen from his seat, surprise, hardly noticeable, shooting through his eyes. But America caught it. He knew Russia had expected he'd won this game—he hadn't been expecting extra players.

But Russia's smile returned. This would be interesting.

In a single moment, ropes began to fall from the blackened ceiling. It seemed as if shapes on the walls began to move and shadows began to crawl down the ropes. Men and women clad in black clothing that covered everything but their eyes surrounded the assortment of people in the hall. More appeared behind the guards that held the hostages. China barely flinched as he felt the cold tip of a metal blade gently touch the small of his back and did not make the slightest attempt to get away.

The guards lining the walls began to topple to the ground; the assassins making them drop like flies. The intruders were beginning their rescue of the hostages.

"Look, Romano, I told you we'd save you." Italy's delighted squeal at his brother's good health caused Romano's holder a shock. But before he could react, one of Japan's ninjas had already cut clean through his chest.

"Veneziano, how did you get here?" Romano asked, perplexed. His brother was always the least bit quiet and hated fighting. How had he managed to infiltrate behind the guards _without_ making a single sound?

"Oh, that's easy, _fratello_. One of Japan's men was watching over me! He made sure that I kept quiet during this whole thing. He had covered my mouth so hard at one point, I thought I was going to faint! It was really fun, coming here to save you, Romano."

But his brother looked dumbfounded. Did Italy think this was a game now?

"You can pick up your chit-chat, later, you two! Take them _und_ go," Germany's voice rose over the commotion. The ninja that had helped Italy made a motion towards two others, who nodded. The brothers were then surrounded by the three, ushered swiftly from the room. Once they were out, two of the men in black grabbed themselves one of the Italy brothers and sprinted after the leader.

"See, Romano? I told this was fun! Look how fast they run!" Italy stated giddily, looking over to his brother. Romano nearly scoffed until he took a good look at his brother. His eyes were haunted, dark circles beginning to show under the fair skin. Relief glimmered in his brown irises. Had he really been so worried about Romano? They were brothers, after all, but Lovino couldn't remember the last time he'd received such looks from his brother. It felt…warm.

"_Che palle_, you bastard," Romano muttered under his breath. Even though he felt jaded, his brother's reaction to his safety comforted him.

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><p>With the Romano and Italy safely removed from battle, Germany returned his attention to barrage before him. America was beginning to return to his feet. Many of the hostages were freed and taking up battle themselves. France and England fought together, protecting Canada from any attackers. Sealand was rooting on Sweden who was protectively looking after Finland while fighting. Hungary had managed to apprehend weapons from guards she had defeated and was dealing out swords for others to use.<p>

Japan had come out of hiding and now readied himself before China. The taller man had his assailant in an arm lock, one twist away from causing a destructive dislocation. Upon seeing his younger brother, China tossed the assaulter aside and strode toward Japan. He looked up at Russia for an approval. Ivan nodded.

Russia wasn't going to stay and fight. Instead, he moved along the Baltic nations quivering under his cover. If any assailant approached the small ground, Russia made quick disposal of them. He could kill any normal man with a single swing of the hand, one mighty strike for his sword. But his preferred weapon, a long faucet pipe, was stored away at his home in Moscow. The palace-like building they were in now was another decoy base in Sochi. He worried little about America's escape, if he could that is, because Ivan was again having fun. The game was still on, and more surprises would be encountered by both players.

China looked back crossly at Japan. The smaller nation was also in the ninja get-up, similar to the ones of the men he commanded. He only had meager weapons with him—some _shuriken_ and _kunai_, a few smoke bombs for escape—nothing that he could actually use in a battle against Yao. China took up a fighting pose with Japan doing the same. The two circled each other, China's eyes boring down at Japan. But Japan gave little emotion to fighting his elder; his eyes would occasionally flicker to America and Germany who were fighting beside one another. A growl rumbled in China's throat, Japan's attention snapping back to his enemy.

"Don't look away from me, _Rìběn_," he snarled. Japan held his hostile gaze with emotionless irises. Today, China was not his brother. They were enemies and Japan would treat the situation no other way.

But as the two advanced little toward one another, Japan's eyes began to drift to the situation outside of their own battle.

"Don't look away from me," China repeated. Japan's gaze darted over to Germany, daring to defy his opponent. "Don't look away!" The scream pierced the room and brought it into silence. All eyes fell on the two Asian countries' fight as China lunged forward, eyes flaring with fierce animosity and venom. China struck left, right, left, right, a rhythmic pounding of firsts meeting air as Japan dodged each with ease. Full of spite, China only continued to attack. "You're dead, _Rìběn_. You're dead, you hear me? You're dead!" His screaming declaration was flooded with madness and rage.

China continued his assault, landing few blows on Japan as the smaller man dodged with graceful movements. China would falter rarely, but as he began to ware himself out, his movements were becoming sloppy. A single, minute opening by his poor fighting stance gave Japan the opportunity to finish off the battle quickly. His palm was shoved into China's stomach, causing the tall man to gasp and attempt to catch his breath. Japan moved swiftly, whipping around behind his opponent and kicking his legs from beneath him and sending his sprawling across the floor. Yao rolled over and tried to get back up, only to be pinned down by Japan. Kiku slammed his palm into Yao stomach once again, forcing the air from his lungs. China struggled for air, leaving an opening long enough for Japan to use his smoke bombs.

Japan looked down at his elder brother, emotion returning to his eyes. They had once lived in peace and harmony before. They had been family and they had loved one another. But those days were gone. China wasn't the same anymore. Something had happened to him that darkened his heart and molded it into something cruel.

"I'm sorry, _Aniki_." Japan whispered low. China could hardly pick up the worlds spoken. Japan turned away, preparing to release the smoke bombs while signaling to Germany to get the remaining people out of the room.

"Don't turn your back on me. Don't turn your back on me, damn it!" China screamed as he struggled to get off the ground. The smoke bombs had erupted blinding, thick grey gas the moment they came in contact with the ground. Japan was gone now, along with guards, captives, and the rescue team.

A stifled sob was caught in China's throat. How dare he? How dare Japan turn on him again. Next time, Japan would feel all the pain and suffering that he had felt from Japan's betrayal—the one that left a deep slash scarred into his back. Japan would pay, he would make sure. He would pay for all the pain China was suffering and all the torment he ever felt. Japan would beg for mercy but Yao would show none. His emotions collided, encasing him and berating his inside so tremendously he began to tremble.

As the smoke began to clear, China rose. His emotions accumulated in his very core. His body shook with pure, violent rage and his burned maliciously. He yelled, releasing every emotion that was pent up inside of him. His roar shook him vigorously. The scream echoed off the walls and poured down the halls, pursuing the fleeing team. When the terrible sound reached Japan's ears, his blood turned ice cold and chills ran down his spine. China was out for blood—and no one else's but Japan's own.

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><p><strong>Translations and Pronunciations<strong>

_**Fratello:**_ Brother in Italian

_**Und:**_ And in German

_**Che palle:**_ "What balls" in Italian (a term used by Romano in the manga)

_**Shuriken and Kunai**_**: **Throwing stars and knives, both ninja weapons

**_Rìběn:_** Japan in Chinese

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><p><strong>Quel:<strong> Well, this chapter's over. Sorry if it was short. The next one will probably be a little longer (hopefully). Please, leave a **review** to just give me some pointers or something! Anything is really appreciated. If you enjoyed this chapter, please stick around for the next! More excitement awaits in the next installment!


	4. The Hero's Saviors Part II

**Quel:** I'm sorry for not updating And I'm even more sorry for how pathetically short this chapter is! Well, it's not really a chapter.. Since it's so tiny.. I was going to add more, but... Anyway, there's a lot of bull in this chapter. It's really funny.

Anyway, the chapter's short. And it took forever to get it up. Why? My friend has declared herself my co-editor, which I kind of need, I guess. So she told me not to update anything until she looked at everything. Of course, I still wanted to give something for the week, so here it is. The following chapters will definitely be more juicy and filled and everything. You'll learn about where some countries are and what happened to others and such. Just be patient! Over the weekend I'll be pouring out chapters like a madman! Also, keep a look out. All of my chapters are being edited, so some of the annoying ones may be fixed. Well, that's all I have to say. Continue reading and drop a short **review**, if you don't mind!

**Warning: **A whole load of bull. Really.

**Disclaimer:** Quel does not own APH, but I do own America (a cute little plush of him, I mean)

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><p>Smoke rushed passed as the group made their escape. Japan's smoke bombs were enough to allow for their escape from the building. Another battle was raging, awaiting them just beyond the exit. America was exhausted, but he still pushed himself. Beside him were France and England. Canada had already left in the same manner as the Italy brothers, along with Sealand. Finland had decided to stay with Sweden who was desperately needed for the fight. Many others—Greece, Turkey, Denmark, and others—were already outside and taking on man after man.<p>

America had never felt such a rush of emotion. He was alive, as were his loved ones. Knowing that his brother was completely out of harm's way lifted away some of the weight on his shoulders. Now he could battle alongside France and England, knowing that they were safe too. They looked relieved as well. America had nearly been killed in front of them. Now they would be freed from Russia's grasp and return to safety.

However, before they could reach their freedom, they would have to face one more obstacle. Russia's guards who had been left behind. Many countries that were part of the rescue team were already in battle while the freed countries were now taking up their part in the fight.

"Where is _Spanien_?" Germany called out to Netherlands.

Netherlands glanced over for a second before returning his attention to his own action. "He said something about gathering artillery and ran off," he replied finally, shoving his opponent into the snow-covered dirt.

"Damn it! He runs off right when we need him!" Germany shouted. His anger was showered on every man that tried to oppose him. Skulls cracked, ribs broke, lungs punctured. They needed every hand they had, and without Spain that would mean more trouble.

"Don't worry, _amigo_," a Spanish voice called out. The ground began to shake. At first, it was only a small tremor, but then it began to rise into violent shaking. Was it an earthquake?

"How is it the _Americanos_ say it? The cavalry has arrived." Spain said triumphantly as he strode into view, _riding on a bull_. Following behind was a whole herd of bulls, all scraping the ground with their hooves. They all looked ready for the Running of the Bulls which, it seemed, was exactly what Spain was planning. A single word, "_Vamos_!" rang through the silent battlefield. Then all hell broke loose.

"That's not artillery, _Spanien_!" Germany cried as the herb broke into a stampede. He readied himself for the attack that would be brought on by the bulls. But none came. The bulls streamed passed nations and barreled into Russia's men. It was as if the bulls knew the difference between friend and foe. With their enemies being chased, trampled, and crushed below the beasts' hooves, the group again tried to leave the scene. France was shouldered by England, injured by a bullet lodged in his thigh. Sweden and Finland were pressed to keep moving by Denmark. America was shielded by Germany and Japan, the masterminds of the exploit to free the young country.

"Let's go, _amigos_," Spain called atop his ride. His bull sped past with the rest beginning to trail behind. The bulls began to rush their way through to follow the leading bull, fleeting through the band and separating some into smaller units. The herd scrambled on the frozen tundra as they separated the group, just when they had finally come back together.

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><p>It's over already? Yes, I'm sorry. But I did say there was a load of bull. This was my most favorite idea for the early part of the story. But we've hardly reached the rising action. It's kind of sad. I was hoping to have more done by now, but school's been such a pain. Anyway, on to the translations!<p>

**Translations and Pronunciations**

**_Spanien:_** Spain in German

**_Vamos:_** Let's go in Spanish

**_Amigo(s):_** Friend in Spanish

**_Americanos:_** Americans in Spanish

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><p>Well, I this is it until the weekend. This is more like a teaser for the rest of what's coming. Although it doesn't tell you much.. But it makes you want to know why it was so short! I figured it was kind of a nice cliff hanger.. Maybe.. Kinda, sorta...<p>

Until next time, _arrivederci_!


	5. A Painful Reunion

**Quel:** Yes, I know. I said I wouldn't update until the weekend. But I couldn't help myself! I wrote this up, and it's amazing! Okay, maybe I'm the only one that'll think it's amazing. But I decided I would give at least something. And this one's longer. Well, enjoy! Drop a **review**, too!

**Warning: **Some violence, emotional issues. Not much else.

**Disclaimer: **APH=Not mine.

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><p>The group of countries had reached the border between Russia and Georgia. The bulls were being rounded up by Spain and his men, back into the crates in which they were brought in. As the mass began to thin, the nations began to search and call for one another. The Italy brothers were there, along with Canada. Once Spain had finished rounding up the bulls, he went over to Romano and embraced him in a tight hug. Romano's face broke out in shock before anger poured in. He wriggled in Spain's grasp, trying to pull his arms free from the bear hug. Antonio loosened his grip, believing his little Lovino would be returning the hug, much to his desire.<p>

"Bastard!" Romano roared, catching Spain off guard. He rammed his fist into the other man's stomach, causing him to double over in pain as he looked up at the Italian.

Spain managed to gasp, "Romano!" But Romano just spat at him and shoved him on his side with his boot. His brown irises burned with absolute spite as he glared down at his former master. But pain of betrayal lingered along the edges of his eyes, Spain noticed. Spain accepted his punishment and lifted himself up off the ground, only to be shoved down again and pinned by Romano.

"_Bastardo_, _bastardo_, _bastardo_! _Spagna_, _maledetto_ _bastardo_!" Romano cried. Tears stained his face and stung his eyes. He punched the man below him, over and over and over again. Spain took every blow, endured every hit. Romano began to break down as he barraged Spain with his fists. Antonio looked up at his Lovino. With every punch he took, drops of Romano's tears landed on his face and mixed with the blood that began to trickle from his nose and mouth.

The buffet began to lack in force, Romano's body shaking wildly with every sob. He stopped his assault all together and pressed his face into the other man's chest, gathering up parts of Spain's shirt in his firsts, whimpering in misery. "How could you, _Spagna_? How could you?" he muttered while he wept.

Antonio was rocked by Romano's unspoken accusation. How could he have left Romano behind? All of this pain and suffering Romano had felt; the fear of being left behind. And all of it accumulated because Spain had thought that Lovino could handle being alone but it seemed that there was more to his leaving than Spain had originally thought.

He wrapped his arms around the boy's frame and whispered to him. "I'm sorry, Romano. I'm so, so sorry." Spain gently rubbed the man's back, trying to calm his convulsions as the sobs that shook his body. Romano continued whimpering, "How could you, how could you?" with Spain responding with "I'm sorry."

Italy sighed with melancholy, watching his brother's torment. Not even he had realized what his brother would have felt by being left behind. He wanted to say something, _anything_, to comfort his brother. But leaving Romano alone would be the best cure for him at the moment, until he was ready to talk without shooting a fist at Spain. And _that_ would take a while.

Italy joined Germany and Japan who were talking about Japan's losses and who was not able to be freed. The Baltic nations were still under Russia's control, along with Austria—much to Hungary's disdain. The other Asian nations had not been at the Russian base at all, still trapped somewhere in one of Russia's fortresses. At the moment, though, the casualties were few and they _did_ manage to rescue America who, at the moment, was gripping Canada in a great bear hug.

The two brothers had hardly had a chance to see each other, what with America being in solitary confinement while in Russia's captivity. They were both safe and other than exhaustions, some bumps and bruises, they were perfectly fine. When America finally pulled away from the hug, hands on Canada's shoulders to take a good look at his brother, he couldn't help but pull in again. America had almost died, and right in front of his brother. He could tell his brother had been desperately worried about him, from the way he was shaking. Or was it because he was cold? Either way, America was glad that everyone was safe.

"Oi, _Tyskland_," Denmark signaled. Germany looked over, nodding in Denmark's direction. "Have you seen _Sverige_ and Finland?" Alarm began to break into the groups. They _hadn't_ seen the two countries, not since their escape from the Sochi base.

"H-hey," America's voice was shaky and slightly panicked, "has anyone seen France...and England?"

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><p>"Let's stop for a rest," a bushy-browed man said to his injured companion. He laid his friend against the trunk of a tree and stretching out his wounded leg before taking a seat next to him. Their breathing was rough from being chased down by a bull. They had just been freed from captivity, just reunited with their friends, and one man's attempt to help became their downfall.<p>

"You go on, _Angleterre_," France pronounced. "I'll be fine. You should go. I'll only hold you back,"

"Don't pull a bloody American movie on me, France. I'm not leaving you behind," England responded. France smiled unenthusiastically. The cold snow wasn't helping his leg. If England stayed with him, they would be caught. But even knowing that, he was glad that the man said he would stay. Francis wouldn't try to convince him out of it. Once England decided on something, that was that.

England rested his head against the tree trunk. He knew very well that they would be caught. They were hardly a few miles away from the base and there was sure to be scouts wandering around to see if there was anyone left behind. But England was ready for this. It had been part of a plan Germany and he had devised. Had anyone been captured, they were to stay put. It would keep them safe, for the most part, and would make Russia believe that there would be some suicidal effort to rescue them. If all worked according to plan, Russia would be caught completely off guard.

Just as the two began to drift off, Russian voices rose in the air. France sat up in shock, but England only came to his feet and waited for the officers to approach. As they drew near, England raised his arms in surrender. France stared, dumbfounded. The stubborn England, _surrendering_?

"_Angleterre_, what are you doing?" France whispered.

"Shut up, I know what I'm doing." England turned his attention back to the officers, guns pointed at the two European countries.

When the officers came close enough, they grabbed England and shoved him into the cold, snow-covered earth and doing the same to France. England made no move to fight his captor while France gave a shake to try and get free. He gaped at his friend. What was going on? Why had he given up so easily? His voice shook mildly as he dared to say again, "_Angleterre_?"

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><p>"Where are we going, <em>Routsi<em>?" Finland asked his tall companion. Sweden and Finland had purposely separated from the group, and Finland still had no idea why they were moving in a completely different direction of the others. Sweden continued to drag him along, though, without saying a word. He puffed his cheeks in exasperation. Sweden looked back, hearing a sigh coming from his small companion. He blushed lightly, turning his head away, thinking Finland looked like a chipmunk with his cheeks puffed out.

The two had walked some ways now, heading north from the Sochi base. The other countries were most likely being pursued by Russia's men. Sweden and Finland, however, had not met any confrontation as they continued their trek. North was Finland's territory, and Sweden's. It was also Ukraine's land and, although she was still part of the Soviet Union, would hardly mind the two nations passing through if they chose to take that route. But Sweden's first matter of business was to get Finland to safety.

The other countries were supposed to be on the border of Russia and Georgia by now, awaiting a flight to take them to Switzerland, a safe and neutral country. Russia, at the moment, was not planning on taking out the country. He instead was after Liechtenstein, hoping to conquer her brother by taking her. Switzerland, however, had not yet let Liechtenstein be taken.

It was Switzerland that Finland and Sweden would have to reach, once they were out of Russian territory. That, however, would be some dozen or so more miles before they even managed to reach the Ukrainian border. But Sweden wouldn't rest until they were there. When Finland became weary, Sweden pulled him onto his back and let the small boy doze in a piggy-back ride. Even as he began to wear down, he did not stop. Safety, _Finland's_ safety, was most important to him. "Hang on a little longer, _fru_," he whispered to the wind.

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><p><strong>Translations and Pronunciations<strong>

_**Bastardo:**_ Bastard in Italian

_**Spagna:**_ Spain in Italian

_**Maledetto bastardo:**_ 'You damn bastard' in Italian

_**Tyskland:**_ Germany in Danish

_**Sverige:**_ Sweden in Danish

_**Angleterre:**_ England in French

_**Routsi: **_Sweden in Finnish

**_Fru:_** Wife in Swedish

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><p><strong>Quel:<strong> Okay, so now I won't be updating until the weekend or so. But I hope you enjoy this chapter. Like I said, leave a review. I really want to know what people think about this chapter. And did anyone else feel for Romano? I know I did. (But then, I wrote it..) Until next time! _Adieu!_


	6. The Dragon's Den

**Quel:** I didn't end up going to my editor's, so here's a new update! Also, when I talk about Korea, I mean South Korea.

Alternate Chapter Title: Big Brother Blues

**Warning:** A single scene involving violence.

**Disclaimer: **Korea invented Hetalia: Axis Powers. I am not one bit Korean, so I own it not. (Joking)

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><p>China stormed down the halls of Russia's men, forcefully making his way through any person blocking his way, still fuming about his short battle with Japan. Japan would be demolished, once he had his way. He would destroy the country until there was nothing more than an unrecognizable blood-covered form lying on the ground like trash.<p>

How dare he? After all that China had done for him all those years ago, how dare he turn his back on China? He was reminded of the betrayal every night, the scar pulsing with antagonizing pain every night. And then he had enough gall to convince the other Asian nations to become free from China's rule. Even Hong Kong had declared being an independent form from China. Japan had even tried to conquer some of China's own land in World War II. He'd left to many scars, caused too many betrayals, to ever be forgiven.

China paused, giving an apathetic glance to the side of him. He had been called to Russia's office, but in his anger, he wasn't sure he cared to meet with his cohort.

Before he had the chance to leave the vicinity, however, the door creaked open from the inside. China was greeted by a bowing man, holding his arm out to an empty chair before a desk. Behind the desk was a large chair, facing away from the entering figure. The form within the chair was accompanied by the three quivering Baltic nations. He waved his hand and the man at the door escorted the three small nations from the room.

Russia stared wistfully through the window, watching the snow slowly rain down. "Why do you think it snows so much here, Yao?" he queried.

"Do not call me that, _Èluósī_," China snapped bitterly. "We are only business partners and our relationship is strictly formal."

"Yes, _Kitaĭ_," he sighed coolly. "But why do you think it snows so much?" he repeated.

China scrutinized Russia for a moment. "Why are you interested in something as petty as that, _Èluósī_?" Russia could hear the harsh bite in China's words, but made no attempt to reprimand him.

"Do you think it's because I'm so cold, _Kitaĭ_? Is it because I am like this tundra; harsh and cold?" Russia was rattling questions to himself; China was hardly taking notice now.

"What has this to do with anything?" China replied, again answering with a question.

"Curious," Russia whispered back. He looked again past the window, into the grey sky that was releasing so many soft white flakes.

"Ahem," China coughed. Russia relieved a silent sigh and turned around, his violet irises full of apathy as they fell on China. China eyed the man curiously. The tension in the air thickened as Russia took on a new persona. "For what reason was I called here for? Surely not to be questioned about some silly subject as the snow,_ Èluósī_?"

Russia held back his response as he looked the man up and down. He was rigid, obviously still hurt about his loss against Japan. The air about him was menacing, too, threatening, as if he were ready to strike anything that moved and mean for it to be fatal. There was no lightness, no gentleness Russia had once seen and admired in the man. It had dissipated and made room for this new, cruel Yao to take its place.

Russia leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk, chin resting on his knuckles. He was quiet a moment longer, still dissecting the man before him. He hoped to find any kindness still living in the soul, but it seemed all of it was gone.

"You disappoint me, _Kitaĭ_," he stated simply. China stiffened, surprise locking up his body.

"Excuse me?" he spoke through gritted teeth.

But Russia ignored the question and moved onto a different subject. "Word has already spread about your battle with _Yaponiya_," he voiced.

China raised an eyebrow at this. "So?" he retorted.

"The news has even reached the dungeons. Our…guests must have heard it by now. They're worried about you, _Kitaĭ_." He stated the news with veiled disinterest, hoping to catch China off guard.

"So?" China repeated.

Russia sighed again. "They're worried about their _starshiĭ brat_, you know. They have requested to see you. I saw no problem in you paying them a visit. You haven't granted them your presence for a while now, have you?" Russia's eyes bore down on China now, violet irises alight with a blend of curiosity and playfulness.

"That is none of your business, _Èluósī_," China stated vehemently. Russia's gaze continued to bear down on him, now with irritation entering the mixture.

"You do realize that they are here of their own accord, _Kitaĭ_. They are not our prisoners. They wished to stay near _you_. Now, if you continue treating them as prisoners, then I will gladly make arrangements to make them such. So, if you wish for them to continue as our guests here, you _will_ go see them _now_. Are we clear, _Kitaĭ_?" Russia was no longer feeling playful. China's defiance had set him in a foul mood. He turned his chair away from the lithe man, staring again out at the falling snow.

"_Èluósī_, I-"

"Go," Russia snapped. China glared a second longer at the back of the chair before announcing his leave. He slammed the door closed behind him, storming away from Russia's office, cursing horridly under his breath.

Once China was gone, Russia slumped in his seat. Again, he was left alone, the pain of it setting in. Every second of loneliness tore at Russia. He hated the feeling of being alone. And yet, it seemed that no matter who he was with, whether it was China, the Baltics, or even his own sisters, he still felt the empty, gaping hole in his chest eating away at him from the inside out.

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><p>China raged his way through the dungeon. His footsteps echoed off the walls and driving him mad. As he approached, figures shouted at him from all around, cursing at him for letting them rot away in their cells. He ignored them, passing by a guard who bowed as he passed. A gate lied before him. He flicked his hand at the guard to let him pass. The gate opened, revealing a plush room beyond. China entered and the gate closed behind him.<p>

There were three forms in the room, their eyes placed on him. He looked over each one for a minute, taking in every change that had taken place since his last visit. They all looked thinner, paler. A rush of sympathy for his siblings rushed through China. But the feeling was short lived as indifference set in.

"_Hyung_!" Korea called out, racing to greet his brother. Taiwan and Hong Kong followed swiftly, the three surrounding China. "How have you been, _hyung_? You hardly ever come down to visit. Has everything been alright? We've heard a lot has happened recently," Korea questioned madly, just barely able to restrain himself from jumping on his sibling.

"All is well," China stated simply. Korea deflated slightly, hoping for more than _that_ from China.

"_Gēgē_, how are you doing? We have been worried about you since you have not been visiting recently." Taiwan looked at her brother expectantly, Yao looking back with feigned care.

"I have been well," he replied. Taiwan smiled faintly, obviously feeling just as miffed as Korea had.

"We are at war now," China stated, noticing his siblings' concern.

"War, _g_ēgē__?" Taiwan gasped.

"With who?" Korea inquired. Hong Kong looked intently at China now, accusing brown irises trying to penetrate China. Korea took a deep breath and swallowed, knowing that what he was about to do was very suicidal. The three younger siblings took a few steps back, seeing China was becoming vexed. Korea dared to take a step toward Yao.

"We-we heard you saw _Ilbon_," Korea whispered.

"_Hánguó_!" Taiwan shouted. She was silenced by China's glare before turning it on Korea.

"Is it true? Did you really see him? Please, _hyung_, tell us if you saw him!" Korea asked. China had turned to leave, signaling to the guard on the other side of the gate that he was leaving.

Korea took chase, pulling at China's sleeve. "We know you saw him, _hyung_! You fought him, didn't you? _Hyung_, is he alright?" Korea wailed. Japan was their brother too, and they were just as worried about him as they were China. "_Hyung_, is he-" Korea slammed in the far wall of the room before falling to the ground. China had kicked in the stomach, sending him flying. Korea coughed as he lay on the ground, spitting up blood as he looked up at the looming figure of China.

Hong Kong and Taiwan had rushed to their fallen sibling, Taiwan looking up at her brother. He wasn't the same anymore. He was a disgusting, putrid stranger to them now, not the kind, gentle man he had been before. "_Zhōngguó_," she cried out. But he was already gone.

* * *

><p>"<em>Rossiya<em>, sir," a man said as he entered Russia's office.

"Hm?" came Russia's reply.

"One of our guests has been sent to critical care, sir," the man stated. He was guardsman, commanded by China to report to Russia Korea's 'injury'.

"I see. Treat him, and then return him and the other prisoners to their cell." Russia commanded.

"Prisoners, sir?" The guard looked at his leader, puzzled.

"Yes, prisoners. It seems that _Kitaĭ_ feels that is all they are, and nothing more."

"Y-yes, sir. Right away, sir." The man left, hurrying about and informing others to make the arrangements.

"It seems," Russia said once he was alone, "nothing is safe in times of war." He stood up and left his office and headed toward his quarters, the light fading as night drew close. On his desk a small T.V. set was left on, an image of Yao wreaking havoc on his own room.

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><p><strong>Translations and Pronunciations<strong>

**_Èluósī:_** Russia in Chinese

**__Kitaĭ**: **__**China in Russian

**__Yaponiya: __**Japan in Russian

**__starshiĭ brat: __**Older Brother in Russian

**_Hyung:_** Older Brother in Korean (from a younger man to an older man)

**__Gēgē_:_** Older Brother in Chinese (Ku-Ku)

**__Ilbon: __**Japan in Korean

**__Hánguó:__** South Korea/Korea in Chinese

**__Zhōngguó: __**China in Chinese (Be creative, because I have _no_ idea)

**_Rossiya:_**

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><p><strong>Quel:<strong> So many translations! And my poor Korea! No! Did you know that in Taiwan, they speak Chinese? I didn't know that. And Korea and South Korea are the same thing, but North Korea is completely different. That was interesting too. I was struggling not to type _Aniki_ when Korea was talking. I love him double as much when he says it. I don't know why..

And boo to all those that thought Russia was heartless. He's makes for a great villain, but I don't like him heartless. And yes, China is a little bit crazy, but you see how it feels when you've (apparently) been betrayed. And what's up with Russia's question? I wanted to go more in depth with it, but I'll save that for later.

Well, stay tuned for the next installment! I should have up by Monday, I hope. Keep reading, drop a **review**, and I'll see you again. _Salut!_

**Edit:** Hello, everyone! It seems I've made a mistake in my translations! And I still haven't gotten my chapters edited. Ah, but no fear! I will be adding chapters shortly! I've reached writer's block, but I'm slowly coming out of it. I just needed to get the juices flowing and get some typing in! Wish me luck!


	7. Count Your Losses

**Quel:** Here is the newest chapter! Three chapters in a row that I'm really proud of. And someone special makes an appearance! I love different languages. They're all awesome.

**Warning:** Violence (Another 'for real'!)

**Disclaimer:** No matter how much I beg, Wikipedia still won't let me say that Hetalia is mine. So it's not.

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><p>Once their planes were prepped and ready, the rescue team boarded and left Georgia. Spain was having his herd flown back to his home where they would be set back to their pastures. Many of the countries they had rescued had fallen asleep on the ride. Romano had passed out while he had been lying on top of Spain. He was now resting next to Italy with Spain watching him with worried eyes on the opposing side of the plane. America had fought to stay awake, wanting to talk to Germany and Japan about turning back to find England and France. But with their continuous refusal, he sat grumbling next to Canada and finally drifted off. Sealand was sitting next to Denmark who seemed uncomfortable sitting next to the small boy. Hungary was shifting in her seat, still preoccupied with worry about Austria.<p>

Germany and Japan were separate from the group in the passenger compartment of their private jet. The two were again talking strategically. They knew rescuing England and France would be an issue with America, but they were most likely not in any danger and would be able to stay safe. Sweden and Finland, on the other hand, could be in any kind of situation, although the two would probably not be captured if Sweden could help him. He may have been stoic and quiet, but he was definitely strong.

The pilot came on the intercom and announced that the plane would be landing in Switzerland soon and that everyone was to be buckled and prepare for landing. Once the plane touched down, they passengers unloaded themselves. The countries that had been sleeping struggled to stay awake long enough to get off the plane and fell back asleep once they entered a car that would take them to Switzerland's home. Upon arriving, the slumbering countries were helped to a room for each and left to rest.

Over time, each one had begun to wake up. Sealand was the first, greeted by Iceland, Norway, and Denmark. The next to wake was a grumpy Romano. Many countries greeted him happily while being hugged tightly by Italy. When Spain came to greet him, however, Romano turned away. Spain felt dejected but understood how Romano felt and accepted his continued punishment. America, however, still had not awoken as the fourth day since his rescue came to an end.

"How is he?" Germany inquired as Canada entered Switzerland's office, closing the door behind him.

"He's still resting," Canada's reply came emptily. He was worried terribly about his brother, staying with him and talking to him while he slept. But America never made a response.

"Let him, then," Germany responded. "He needs all the rest he can get. And," he said, turning his attention back to the large gathering of nations, "until then, we are going to need to think of a plan."

"And what kind of plan are we talking about? Surely not another rescue plan, _Almanya_," Turkey questioned bitterly. He was tired of going in to Russia's bases only to flee when they failed. It was time that they made their final strike.

"No, but we can't just go in, guns blazing. The end to this war is drawing near, but I'm sure there will still be many encounters with _Russland_ before it is finished." Germany replied calmly. He wanted to end it too, but wars always seem to last longer than they wanted. Each country will face difficult times, Germany knew, but they would have to be strong and rely on one another if they wanted to win.

"Hey, where's _Litwa_?" came a shrill voice. Poland entered the room, escorted by two Switzerland officials. He was dressed in his military uniform. "You guys didn't manage to save _Litwa_? Man, you guys are like, terrible rescuers or something," he said obnoxiously. Many countries grumbled at his presence, others glaring at him to get him to shut up. He was, however, oblivious to their cruel views.

"_Pōrando-kun_," Japan objected, standing from his seat.

"It's alright, _Japan_, he's right." Japan looked at Germany, shocked. "We did not rescue _Litauen_. However, we managed to save a few others." Germany stated.

"Yeah, I like, totally heard about that. But, like, two of them are totally useless," Poland said harshly, received venomous calls from Sealand and Romano, "and, like, the only one Russia _fears_ is like, totally asleep right now." Even with Poland's harsh words, Germany was not deterred. He could see fear for Lithuania in the young man's blue gaze.

"Don't worry, _Polen_, we _will_ rescue him and everyone else," Germany paused, glancing at Hungary, "and finish this fight with _Russland_." Germany received a large assortment of cheers from the other nations. Japan, who was sitting beside him, looked uneasy. Germany dared not to point it out, knowing his friend was already dealing with issues over China.

"Hey, _Westen_, we've got company." Prussia said, poking his head through the crack in the door. He swung it open, revealing a weary-looking America. He still looked exhausted. He rubbed his eyes and replaced his glasses.

Canada was shocked, then repressed the feeling and ran up to his brother, wrapping his arms around the man. America did the same, whispering "thanks" to his little brother.

"Good to see you awake, _Amerika_," Germany said, standing from his seat and receiving a nod from the other nation. Other countries welcomed him as well. He then took a seat next to his brother and waited for the meeting to continue.

"Well, now that everyone is here, let us continue," Switzerland spoke up. All eyes turned to him. "We need to find _Russland_'s weak spots and strike hard. Each attack should be simultaneous with another, to create confusion. We will also need to attack _China_, by the same means. _Japan_, I hope that we can entrust that front to you," Switzerland strategized. Many countries agreed. Japan would lead the assault on China, joined by Egypt, Australia, Spain, and the three Nordics. Germany was appointed leader against Russia, supported by Switzerland, who was already in battle with Russia, Turkey, Greece, and Hungary. Canada was to join that front as well, once he was completely recovered.

All eyes turned on America. He had yet to choose where he would fight. "What about England and France?" He questioned. Nobody had mentioned them and whether they were captured or not, found or not.

"We've already decided that they can't be our priority," Prussia said, annoyance building in his red eyes. He was standing just behind America's seat, having followed him since the man had entered the room. He had been expecting this sort of outburst.

America was dumbfounded. "Of course they can be our priority! They should be! We need them too," he shouted. How could the other nations be so willing to let them go so easily?

"Too bad, bro, but we're not goin' in for another suicidal mission to rescue them. They are big boys, you know," Prussia said, his form bearing down on America.

"What about _Ausztria_?" Hungary asked, then gasped, realizing she had spoken when she hadn't meant to. Prussia's furious gaze landed on her. She flinched. Prussia softened then, seeing the beginnings of tears forming around her eyes.

"Don't worry, _Ungarn_. We'll save Roderich," he said softly to her before turning back to America, "and we'll save _England und__Frankreich_, but not now."

"'Not now' my ass. We _are_ going, whether you like it or not." America was on his feet now, nose to nose with Prussia.

Prussia shoved him away, saying "Yeah? You and what army?" He gestured with his arm toward the rest of the countries, who looked away when America met their gaze. "No one here is going to help you, you know. This is about our war with _Russland_, not P.O.W.s. You got a problem with that?" Prussia challenged.

America clenched his fists, gritted his teeth, head lowered. He was infuriated. How dare they do nothing about their missing comrades? Did they not care about them? "Yeah, I've got a problem with that." America reached out, grabbing Prussia's jacket and drawing him close. He raised his fist and struck, hitting Prussia square in the nose.

Prussia stumbled backwards, falling to the ground. He rubbed his nose, dark, red liquid oozing from it and staining his gloves. He stood himself up; refusing any help that was offered to him. Every country was on their feet now, although they dared not attempt to enter the fight. America was awaiting Prussia's move. Prussia lunged at him, forcing him onto the ground and landing two strong punches on the man's face. The back of America's head began to throb from the impact and a metallic taste was on his tongue. He tried to shove off Prussia, only rolling the German on his back. America made contact again, causing another drizzle of blood to pour from Prussia's nose.

Germany was finally on the two, pulling America off his brother. He slammed the smaller man against the wall, his arm pressing into America's throat. His eyes were bright with anger. "We are _not_ going back to save them. If you can't get over that, then wait until you are given orders. Now, _get out_," Germany's voice was murderous. He released his hold on America, now rubbing his neck where Germany's elbow had been a second ago. Germany was helping his brother to his feet, glaring up at the younger man.

America could feel hot tears stinging his eyes and rushed out of the room angrily. Canada attempted to follow, but was held back by Switzerland and Turkey. The other nations kept their eyes low, not daring to look up at one another.

Germany sighed, adjusting his tie awkwardly. "The meeting with reconvene tomorrow. Until then, everyone get some rest." The room became alive with movement, everyone scrambling to get out and back to their rooms. This meeting had turned into one big disaster.

"Cheeky brat," Prussia mumbled under his breath, wiping his nose clean of blood again.

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><p><strong>Translations and Pronunciations<strong>

A Quick Note: Switzerland speaks many languages (Approximately four are his national languages), but since the majority of the country speaks German, I went with that language. If anyone thinks I should change the language, let me know. Oh, and if anyone thinks he's supposed to speak Swiss, well, there is no such language.

_**Almanya:**_ Germany in Turkish

_**Russland: **_Russia in German

_**Litwa: **_Lithuania in Polish (I think this makes for a good name, just like Liet and Lithy)

_**Pōrando-kun: **_Poland in Japanese (if you don't know what –_kun _means.. google it.)

_**Japan: **_Japan in German (Pronounced: _Ya-pan_)

_**Litauen: **_Lithuania in German

_**Polen: **_Poland in German

_**Westen: **_West in German (Pronounced _Vest-en_. I was doing my best not to write _Vesto_.)

_**Amerika: **_America in German

_**Ausztria: **_Austria in Hungarian

_**Ungarn: **_Hungary in German

_**England und**__**Frankreich: **_England and France in German

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><p><strong>Quel: <strong>Yes, so, how did you like it? Lots of translations this time too. Also, I do support the two main Austria pairings (Hung/Aus, Aus/Prus) as well as Hung/Prus. Why? Because it's a funky love triangle. And love triangles are fun. And I mention this just because there was a moment of minute Hung/Aus and Hung/Prus. Did you catch it?

Did anyone pick up that America was the bad guy in this chapter? Very subtle, but he was. I wanted him to be. I hope it was hard to figure out, but noticeable. Nobody ever seems to make him the bad guy, since he's such a 'hero' and all.

Well, that's all I have to say. Keep a look out for future chapters and take a look at my other stories (if I ever get a chapter done)! Until then, _Au Revoir!_


	8. Brothers in Arms

**Quel: **Another chapter! But I'm kind of sad. Not too many people have read the newest chapters of this. I was hoping for some major feedback on "The Dragon's Den" and "Count Your Losses." Come on, my avid readers, give me something! I want to know what you think. (_Gott_, I sound like a beggar. Wait, I am begging…)

**Warning:** Um.. Shouting. And eavesdropping..

**Disclaimer:** Denmark is the happiest place on Earth. And I do not own APH.

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><p>Matthew slowly opened the door leading into America's room. The country was hunched over on his bed, face pressing into his palms. "Al, I-"<p>

"Not now," America snapped, cutting off his little brother. Canada almost wanted to leave then and even made the motion to. But he recognized his brother's defeated stance. He slowly drifted toward the bed where America was sitting. He sat down on the opposing side of his brother with their backs facing. For a while, the air was still and nothing stirred. Canada took in a breath before slowly leaning toward his brother until their backs were barely touching. When no objection to the motion came, Canada pressed his full weight on his brother and looked up at the ceiling, watching the fan spin around and around.

The silence again continued for several minutes longer before Canada shifted and slid himself next to Alfred. America was still refusing to look at him. Canada sighed. His brother was _so stupid_ some times. But he could understand his feelings. America was _obviously_ worried about the two, although it was probably much more England than France. But in Canada's situation, it was the other way around. The brothers had been raised by those two since as long as they could remember. They were all family, and leaving them behind and doing nothing about did seem wrong. But they were strong. The two were once the greatest nations in Europe. And even if they weren't so powerful now, their history showed how strong they were in the face of adversity. They would be alright, even if Alfred didn't think so.

"..what to do.." America mumbled. Canada hardly noticed his brother's words, they had been so quiet. "I don't know what to do," America repeated his statement, much clearer this time.

"You don't know what to do about what?" Canada asked, although he already knew the answer.

"How can we just do nothing about them? They're essential to defeating Russia, just as much as I am. And we're just going to sit around while they could be captured by now?" America had removed his face from his hands, revealing faint tear streaks. His fists were balled up now, resting on his legs. He bit the inside of his lip, trying to dissipate the anger billowing inside of him.

"We have to," came Canada's simple reply.

America flared at that, standing up and turning on his brother. "'We have to'? Like hell we have to! I don't care what they think, I-"

"Al, stop," Canada said, attempting to settle his brother.

Don't 'Al' me," America spat back in reply. He halted in his verbal assault. Matthew was absolutely calm. He wasn't even ruffled a little by America's outburst.

"Al," Canada continued, undeterred, "I know you're hurting. We all are. But you have to understand, we can't rescue them. At least, not right now." Canada could see his brother beginning to relax, or maybe it was surrendering. America sat down again, leaning against Matthew for support.

"I-I can't just… I… I can't just leave _him_, Matt," America stumbled, searching for the right words to say. His façade about being severely worried about _both_ men was over, now in the presence of his sibling.

Canada nodded, closing his eyes. "I know, Al. I know." He missed France dearly. They were just as close as America and England and it hurt not knowing whether they were safe or not.

Matthew then felt Alfred stiffen. What was it _now_?

"How can you?" America asked, his voice trembling as he spoke through gritted teeth. "How can you know? How can you understand?" America was standing again. His face was turning red, his eyes burning with anger. His fists were clenched again, hanging at his sides while his body shook with rage. "You _don't_ understand, Matt! None of you do! You don't know what it's like to lose someone you care about! You don't know what it's like to lose everything you have! How could you understand, Matt? How the hell could you understand?" America burst out, failing to keep his voice down.

Canada stood up now, facing his brother, irritation in his normally gentle and calm blue eyes. "We _all_ understand, America." America flinched. He hadn't heard Matthew call him that for years now, and never with such animosity. "We've all faced hard times, lost friends and family, feared for our loved ones. _You_ are _not_ the only one who's felt that way."

Canada was struggling to keep his cool now. This was his chance to pour out everything he felt about his brother. "Don't you even get it? There are others missing than just _Arthur_! Stop worrying about your own little circle and think about the world for a change! You're so stupid sometimes, I swear!" Canada was shouting now, while America stood stunned by his brother's conniption.

On the other side of the door, many of the countries began to gather, interested in hearing the outcome of the brothers' quarrel. Denmark placed his ear eagerly on the door, copied by Sealand. Romano leaned against the frame of the door, trying to look uninterested but failing so. Turkey was cackling to himself while Greece paid little attention to what was going on. Prussia and Hungary were listening as well, hiding anything that would make them look interested.

"Other people are missing their loved ones too, you know!" Canada continued, bulldozing down America's attempt at rebuttal. "Austria's missing-" Prussia and Hungary flinched then, looking down and rubbing their arms. "We haven't been able to locate Hong Kong, Taiwan, or Korea. Finland and Sweden are missing too. And there are still more, Al! It's not just Arthur. Francis is gone too. What about him, huh?" Tears were beginning to form at the rim of Canada's eyes. Outside the room, a melancholy air quieted the eavesdropping group. "And-and," Canada began to sob. "What about me, Al? And what about you?" Tears were making their way down Canada's cheeks. America had lost his will to fight then, perplexed by his brother's questions and broken on the inside to his brother in such shape. "We almost lost you, Al. I…I almost lost you."

America's eyes widened. Why hadn't he realized it before? How could he be so _stupid_? Everyone was struggling to fight against Russia, facing physical _and_ emotional troubles. And here America was, trying to be the hero and save everyone, without realizing that he was hardly able to save _himself_. He _knew_ England was strong enough to take care of himself, and France was too. But yet here he was, unable to take care of himself. He was _rescued_. He needed to be _saved_. He had been trying to play hero without even realizing the danger he was putting himself in. And his friends. His friends were putting themselves in danger too, with every escapade America led them on. He was a fool, a giant, stupid, stinking fool.

America grabbed Canada, who flinched at the touch, and pulled him in close, wrapping his arms around him. Canada began to cry into America's shoulder, letting every worry flow from his body with the tears. America held him tight. He wouldn't let anyone get hurt anymore. America would play Russia's game, but with a new plan. This was no longer a fight for a winner. This would be for everything.

This would be the war to end all wars.

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><p><strong>Quel:<strong> Yay! No translations this time. Lots of love in this chapter, and lots of other emotions too. It seems America is bipolar as well. And Canada! You finally did it! I'm so proud of you! I did enjoy the eavesdroppers, though. It may not have been the best conversation, but it gave the chapter a lighter side. Well, that's all for now. Until next time, _Au Revoir!_


	9. Home, Sweet Home

**Quel:** I have returned! And I'm really sorry about such a long wait. Finals and all. But now they're over and I have loads of free time. Which means tons of writing. Yes, so, without further ado, the newest chapter!

**Warnings:** I have none. Just.. Prepare yourself.

**Disclaimer:** APH is not mine, will never be mine, and has never been mine. (Ha, it's out of order)

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><p>His body ached as he stretched his muscles, sore from the cold flurry of snow. It was winter, wasn't it? A bitter season and Sweden never took to the frigid temperatures. It had to have been nearly a week since the rescue from Russia's Sochi base. Now Finland and he were nearing the borders of Ukraine.<p>

Finland was still unsure of Sweden's motives but still went along, feeling safer with the tall, stoic man than by himself. Berwald had even said that they would be going home before they would go to Switzerland's. Home sounded nice to Tino. When had he last been home where it was peaceful and quiet? When had it last been peaceful and quiet? He sighed, looking up at Sweden. There was a plane expecting them on the border between Russia and Ukraine. So far, Ukraine hadn't moved a finger to stop them. Maybe she didn't care. Or maybe she was doting over her brother too much to even notice. Finland as well as many others liked the girl, but knew that she could be quite ditzy at times.

They were on the move again, much to Finland's dismay. They hadn't had a good, long rest since they separated from the group. Sweden wouldn't allow it. Something about Russia being a dangerous place to rest in. Finland wasn't worried about the danger, though. He was more terrified of the Russian leader. He'd seemed kind enough a little over a year ago. But Tino knew very well that things change over time. _People_ change, he thought, looking up at Berwald.

"_Fru_," Sweden said, looking at the smaller man trailing some yards behind.

"I told you not to call me that, _Routsi_," Finland huffed as he jogged over to where Sweden stood.

Sweden ignored the comment, turning around and waved Finland over to his side. Finland obliged reluctantly, looking in the direction they were facing. His eyes widened. Resting on the border was a small jet plane, awaiting their arrival. Relief flooded Finland. They would finally be out of the frozen hell that was Russia and would be able to return home and then soon, return to their friends. Finland sped over to the copter, any hint of exhaustion fading from his body. Sweden smiled faintly as he calmly followed. It had been a long time since he last saw Tino with such an expression.

A few hours after they boarded the plane, they arrived in Finland. Tino stepped off the plane, a crowd of officers and government officials surrounding him and welcoming him home. The two had been missing without a trace for nearly a week. It was a relief to see them alive and well. Even Sweden was welcomed with warmth. A feast was prepared in Tino's home, garnished with sautéed reindeer and moose, roasted duck, _lihapullat_, _palvikinkku_ and _palviliha_, _perunamuusi_, _kaalikääryleet_, and cakes, pastries, and _viili_ for dessert.

After Tino had his fill, he left for his room. He'd hardly had time to rest there since Russia began attacking other nations. He was lucky enough to have his land unscathed, but he couldn't say the same for some of his friends. Were they alright? Tino wanted to know desperately how his friends were, if they were safe. He reached the door to his room, looking over it, pressing his palm against the cool wood. His room was his only solace from the troubles outside that threatened the very existence of the world. Anything could happen at this point. It was either side's move, and whoever moved quicker could make the finishing blow. Finland wanted to help in any way he could, but he would be no good without rest. Sweden and he would leave first thing in the morning.

Knuckles rasped the door only minutes after Finland had entered. He called for the person to enter while he finished buttoning his night shirt. Sweden stood in the doorway, casting a long shadow into the room. Finland instantly felt that something was wrong. The way Berwald positioned his body, it was almost _threatening_. Sweden closed the door behind him, locking it before advancing menacingly toward Finland.

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><p><strong>Translations and Pronunciations<strong>

_**Fru:**_ Wife in Swedish

_**Routsi:**_ Sweden in Finnish

_**Lihappulat:**_Finnish meatballs (I love meatballs)

_**Palvikinkku:**_ Smoked ham

_**Palviliha:**_ Smoked beef

_**Perunamuusi:**_ Mashed potato (I love mashed potatoes too)

_**Kaalikääryleet:**_ Cabbage rolls

_**Viili:**_ A yogurt-like fermented milk product

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><p><strong>Quel: <strong>Okay, I know that I have some Finnish readers, so I hope that the feast has a good selection of regular Finnish foods. I wasn't sure what foods were normally eaten at feasts, so I went with normal foods. Please don't get mad at me! I support suggestions from people in other countries to let me know if there's anything I can do to better their country's character. Trust me, I'm trying to avoid ignorance as much as possible.

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><p>I know, I know. I'm <em>terrible<em>. This chapter is pathetically short. But I wanted to leave it off with Berwald and Tino. Let your imaginations run wild for a little, you know? Have fun with it, because tomorrow you get _**TWO**_ chapters. That is a promise. Even if it takes me forever to get done, I will get two in for you, tomorrow. Somehow.

Now, please drop a _**review**_? _**Auf Wiedersehen**_. Tell me how mad you are that this chapter is _so_ short. I need a good kick in the knickers.


	10. Feeling Lucky

**Quel:** I told you I'd be back fast. Here's part 1 of my promise I made. This one is still kind of short, because I'm still suffering from writer's block (It's like a disease, man, a disease!).

**Warning:** Ah, I hope the violence in this one makes up for the lack in the previous two chapters.

**Disclaimer:** I own a globe, but that doesn't mean I own the world. I own two Hetalia mangas and dvds, but that doesn't mean I own Hetalia. (Sad, I know)

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><p>Eyes blinked open, cheeks pressing against the cool stone floor. He could barely move, his joints ached so much. Across the prison cell was another person strewn across the floor, his gaudy blue and red uniform the only splash of color in the entire dungeon. England lifted his head from the floor, trying to push himself off the ground. His hands, however, were cuffed together and chained into the far wall of the cell. France, he noticed, was in the same bounds.<p>

England finally managed to get himself sitting up and scooted back to rest against the wall where his chain connected with the wall. The chain just barely reached the bars of the door, as the two had found out two days ago, when they had been transferred from another of Russia's bases to the one in Moscow. England had demanded to see Russia, yelling at the guards vulgarly. And even after all his shouts and demands, Russia never did come.

They'd been rotting away since then, without hardly any food or water being delivered and no privacy. There was no comfort in the cell; no beds or sinks or privacy, much to the two nations disdain.

It had been quiet for some time that morning until someone had come storming into the dungeon. England had stirred awake only minutes after the person had left and was waiting for the guards to make their rounds. It would be another, foodless, waterless day of doing absolutely _nothing_. He'd always wanted time to rest before all of this had happened. But he had wanted to rest in luxury, not in imprisonment. England could only describe the situation they were in as a hell-hole.

A moan echoed off the stone walls. England's attention turned to his companion, who was finally coming to. "France," he whispered. "France, get up," he hissed again. France continued to moan and groan, realizing he wasn't at home in a warm bed with servants to wait on him. He rolled onto his back, head facing toward England, looking at the younger man upside down.

"What is it, _Angleterre_? I was having a nice dream, you know," he groaned, scowling.

England motioned toward to the metal bars across the room. France lifted his head slightly, the two noticing a pair of shadows coming down the hall. They heard the rhythmic beating of a nightstick connecting with the metal bars of cells, mingled with an out of tune humming. As the figures approached, England became suspicious. While the guard had done the same noise-making during his rounds, he had never hummed, nor had he ever been accompanied by another. And the new shadow was rather large, and one recognizable to the two imprisoned nations.

"Ivan," they said simultaneously, keeping their voices low and locking eyes for a moment. He had decided to show himself, after all, only just after the two had suffered through horrid conditions. But they'd taken on worse. Captivity, torture. France had been under Germany's rule for years in World War II, and had faced worse conditions than they were in now. They wouldn't break, no matter what Russia was planning.

Russia, dressed in his regular attire, and the guard appeared in front of their cell, peering down at the two with the same innocent looking smile. "_Moi druz'ya_," Russia chirped, continuing to smile at them with a friendly guise. England felt like vomiting.

"We're not friends, Russia," Arthur retorted, cold eyes never leaving Russia's figure.

And anyway, what friend locks up their friends?" France added, now sitting next to England and keeping his eyes on Russia as well.

"It's only for safety measures," Russia replied kindly, scrutinizing the two. "My, my. It seems you two haven't been taken well care of. I don't remember ordering your starvation. It seems I will have to replace your caretaker since the one you have is incapable of his duty." Russia turned to the guard who was trembling now and stared up uneasily at his leader. England furrowed his brow, looking curiously at the guard's stance. He was just being replaced; there was no need to go all lily-livered. Apparently, however, there was.

Russia whipped out a revolver, concealed beneath his long coat. He quickly undid the safety and pointed it in the middle of the man's head before pulling the trigger. The guard crumpled to the ground, blood trickling from the immense gash in his head, or what was left of his head. Russia spun the barrel of the gun before resetting the safety and placing the gun back in the holster and faced the other two nations, a smile still fixed on his face, as if he didn't mind the blood staining his clothes.

England hadn't completely realized how dangerous Russia was until now. It hadn't even been twenty seconds from the moment Russia made his statement to the time he shot his own man. He was swift, deadly, and completely unforgiving. Yet he seemed like nothing had happened. England drew his knees to his chest, imitated by France, as the blood began to pool into their cell. Now he _really_ felt like vomiting.

"So, uh, _Russie_, why do you keep a revolver with you?" France inquired, trying to keep himself calm—and failing miserably to do so.

Russia looked at him curiously, surprised at his question. "_Russkaya Ruletka_, of course. Life is based on chance, _da_? Only the luckiest have the best chances at surviving."

France and England looked at each other once more. "Unlucky man," England whispered under his breath, staring fearfully up at Russia.

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><p><strong>Translations and Pronunciations<strong>

_**Angleterre:**_England in French

_**Moi Druz'ya:**_ My Friends in Russian

_**Russie:**_ Russia in French

_**Russkaya Ruletka:**_ Russian Roulette in Russian

_**Da:**_ Yes in Russian

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><p><strong>Quel: <strong>I'm still suffering from writer's block. It always happens when I write things over a long period of time. But I will get over it (hopefully)! And that second chapter? It's coming tomorrow. Because I have a lot of thinking to do. (I hate writer's block. And I suck at keeping promises.. I'm sorry!) _Merci_, though, for reading!


	11. Strategic Overview

Hey! I'm back! Writer's block is a pain, but I'm pretty much over it. I've been have the urge to write for days, but now I'm taking French class. It's one of the reasons why I've been dying to get back to writing. So, here I am! I won't waste much time, so here you go!

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><p>"<em>Amerika<em>, come over here," called Germany to the younger nation who strode his way over to the burly sat. He was conversing with other nations that were to aide in his part of the attack plan. Japan was across the room talking with the other nations that would lend a hand in the battle against China. Italy and Romano had left the room, ordered to take care of Sealand until a plan was concocted. The Italy brothers weren't all too thrilled about being babysitters, but they figured it was better than being babysat, which, under normal circumstances, was the usual routine.

"What's up?" America asked. Canada looked up at his brother before looking back at the map splayed across the table. Little metal figurines were set up across the map, representing military formations and movements for possible battles. To America, it looked much like the game "Risk" he used to play sometimes when he was younger. But this time it was no game. Lives were really at stake, and all the formations of the military branches were accurately placed where countries kept them. America saw his own nation's image dotted with the metal objects. America had noticed before that Japan had a similar setup for the nations attacking China.

"You and _Kanada_ are closest to _Russland_, therefore the strike against him should start with you two. Alaska is closest to him, so I suggest you make the first move, _Amerika_. It will show _Russland_ that you are still as strong as ever. It should be enough to make him hesitate, even if it is for a short while. _Kanada_ will follow, attacking by land while you by missile." His words were surefire; he had fought with Russia before, even worked with him as allies, so Germany knew very well how to get into Russia. Sending Canadian troops over American was a strategic move; Canadians were more acquainted with the frigid temperatures Russia offered. With Alaska so close to the large nation, Canadian troops were expected to train in Alaska for a short while, the temperature even closer to that of Russia. America was considerably a nuclear threat, having a large stash of atomic weapons prepared incase of an emergency such as the one they were in.

"Man, Germany, you really do know what you're doing," America said, exasperated as he thought about all the tactics and strategies Germany must have come up with.

"_Ja_, America. It's _our_ job to know what we're doing. We have to protect our people _und_ each other. So you must be ready to strike. There's no time for silly business. I've already talked to the president of _Frankreich_ and the prime minister of _England_. They'll lend us their military in support. _Ungarn_ has already spoken to the president of _Österreich_. He will send support to _Japan_ because we already have a large militant force." Canada was moving the pieces on the map all over while Germany spoke, displaying the movements the formations would make and where militaries from other nations merged. Austria's military pieces were pushed over to Japan, where other pieces representing Egypt, Australia, Spain, and the three remaining Nordic countries were set.

America had already been told by Japan about what he would be doing. It would be a replay of World War II for him. He would make his first strike in South Korea, the nation's people already agreeing to support them. South Korea had been taken over by North Korea, a promise China had made to ensure support of the elder Korean nation. But South Korea still wanted its freedom from its northern half and there were many revolutionary groups that had militant force. Egypt, along with Spain and Denmark, would move in from the west, coming in through the Himalayas with a surprise attack to distract China while Japan moved in to the area of Manchuria, a large section of land he had managed to grasp in WWII. With China occupied on the attack in the areas around the Himalayas, Japan, Australia, Norway, and Iceland would take over Beijing, which was expected to highly guarded and required a large military to face.

"After Japan takes over _Peking_, he will move a part of his army into Russia to give us support. _Ungarn_, _Türkei_, _Schweiz_, _und Griechenland_ will attack from the _west und süd_, surrounding _Moskau_. That's where our last battle with _Russland_ will take place. With _Peking_ in Japan's control, _China_ will most likely go to _Russland_ in hopes of protection or support to retaliate. But we know _Russland_, he won't give him it. Once _China_ fails, _Russland_ will be done with him for good. That's when we strike—the moment _China_ falls." Germany had raised his voice and the room fell silent on his final words.

"Then we lay waste to _Rusya_!" Turkey yelled, breaking the silence. The room erupted in a surge of cheers, cursing Russia for all he was worth. Few stayed quiet, looking at one another. Switzerland, Japan, Iceland and Norway looked slightly agitated by the noise. Germany and Canada sighed to themselves while America looked around the room at the other nations and heads of the militaries that joined them. Prussia had left the room in the commotion and was now returning, carrying two containers full of beer bottles. He passed the bottles around while the cheering continued.

Switzerland had left the room, detesting the way that his guests were treating the room. Germany was cleaning up the "Risk"-lookalike while Canada was ushered into the fray of celebrants by Prussia. Japan had disappeared while the two Nordic brothers went over to Denmark and took it upon themselves to insult him in his drunken stupor.

When had it last been since they all had the chance to relax like that, America wondered as he watched his friends dream of the day they took Russia down. They spoke of what they would do in celebration—feasts, parties, an international holiday, maybe—but it all seemed premature. Yet America couldn't help but want them to continue feeling the way they did. Who knew when they would actually get the chance to do so again? America left the room, feeling the lingering eyes of his brother on his back.

"Where'd Germany go?" he asked himself, looking around the empty hallway of Switzerland's home. He could see the backs of the retreating Switzerland and Liechtenstein, probably going out on a picnic upon the younger nation's request. America went in the opposite direction in search of Germany. He may have gone out to find the Italy and the other two, so America headed toward the front of the house.

America could hear a voice outside the front door and opened it, coming face-to-face with the tall figure of Sweden who was giving the shorter nation a sideways glance. He looked back to the person he was speaking to, giving America the feeling he was being ignored. He peered outside the threshold of the door to see Germany mirroring America's surprise at the nation's appearance.

"Ah, _Amerika_, I was just telling _Schweden_ about our plans. Did you need to see me for something?" Germany said, entering the entryway followed by Sweden.

"Oh, no. I'm good," he lied. "I guess the meeting's adjourned for today then? Well, let me know if I can do anything else. Oh, and, uh, it's good to see you're alright, Sweden." America added quickly before shuffling away. He could hear Germany's fading voice asked about Finland and Sweden's response of "He's safe" before America was completely out of earshot. It was a relief to know that the two nations were safe. It added new fire to their fight.

America entered his room and jumped on his bed with a muffled _thump_. Everything was becoming so real and _very_ dangerous. Peace seemed so out of reach, and yet it was still just within their grasp. If everything worked out as Germany planned, then they would win with few casualties. But they all knew, even the countries who were letting their fears go for the moment a few rooms down, that things _never_ went as planned. What would go wrong, America wondered. He could feel his mind fade to darkness as he drifted off to sleep.

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><p><em><strong>Amerika: <strong>_America in German

_**Kanada: **_Canada in German

_**Russland:**_ Russia in German

_**Ja:**_ Yes in German

_**Und:**_ And in German

_**Frankreich: **_France in German

_**England: **_England in German

_**Ungarn:**_ Hungary in German

_**Österreich:**_ Austria in German

_**Japan:**_ Japan in German (Ya-pan)

_**Peking:**_ Beijing in German

_**Türkei:**_ Turkey in German (Turk-I)

_**Schweiz:**_Switzerland in German (Shvites)

_**Griechenland: **_Greece in German (Greechland)

_**West: **_West in German

_**Süd:**_ South in German (Zood)

_**Moskau:**_ Moscow in German

_**China:**_ China in German (Sheen-uh)

_**Rusya:**_ Russia in Turkish

_**Schweden:**_ Sweden in German (Shveden)

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><p>Lots of German words today, no? In the coming chapters, a lot will happen. Much will shock you. Hey, Sweden's back. But where's wifey-I mean Finland. What have you done with him, Sweden? Anyway, more chapters to come. We're reaching the climax! Until we meet again,<p>

_Au Revoir._


	12. The Great Escape

Here's another chapter update. Some violence. Mostly description. Yeah. Well, enjoy

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><p>"Damn it. Let me out already! Let me out!" shouted the fierce demands of the small nation decked in his blue military uniform. He slammed his fists into the door, sending another <em>crack<em> echoing into the room. The door was splintering more and more as it was broken down the angered nation. It cried under the stress of each blow upon its wooden flesh, but still refused to collapse under the barrage. Exhausted and his eyes stinging with tears, Finland gave one last meek pound on the door before slowly dropping to his knees. He rested his sweat-drenched forehead against the cool wood as he uttered quiet sobs and repeated "Let me out, let me out."

His wrists were bruised, a horrid dark purple color circling around his arm. Along his arms were more lines were rope had been crudely tied to keep him from moving. His ankles were in a similar condition, the bruises hidden from site under his pant legs. The night before he had been strapped to his bed frame by Sweden, one of the few nations he trusted.

Berwald had demanded that Tino stay at his home, that he need not enter battle against Russia and China. Tino had upright refused, saying he was not weak and was able to fight, whether the larger nation thought so or not. But Sweden did not accept his answer and approached the smaller nation. He picked him up and threw him on the bed before Finland even had the chance to react, and was tying him up by the time Finland realized what was happening. His wrists and arms were tied to the bed frame, his ankles to the bed posts. The attack was quick, swiftly done. Yet the knots were tight, and breaking free of the bonds was difficult. As Sweden left the nation tied up in his own room, he could hear Finland cursing him with all the little nation had. Sweden had dared not look back at his friend's struggle. He was doing this to keep him safe, even if it meant that he would be hated for the rest of his life. Finland had already broken the bed frame, nearly breaking his wrists along with it. The shattered wood was lying on the bed now, brittle after its fight to hold Finland down.

Unbeknownst to Finland, Sweden had ordered the people of the house to ignore Finland's demands should he free himself from the bed. He was not to be let out from his room and, should he escape, he was to be stopped from leaving the home at all costs. The people of Finland's home suffered along with their leader, knowing how much he wanted to help his friends in the battle against Russia. But they also wanted him to stay safe, and the safest place was his home. So they ignored the devastated nation as his cries of spite rang through the halls.

"Damn you, _Ruotsi_!" he screamed, tears streaking down his face, staining his reddened cheeks. "Damn you," he whimpered again, sobs racking his body. He couldn't bring himself to understand Sweden's logic and why he had to be trapped away in his room, as if he were some prisoner. "Why, Berwald? This isn't fair," he sobbed lightly, rubbing his eyes clear of the stinging water lining his lids.

He looked up suddenly, something on the other side of the door grabbing his attention. He could hear muffled shouts coming from the halls. They were shouting about something or someone.. trying to stop them… Finland took to his feet and backed away from the door. Whoever was in the house, it was headed for his room. And with any luck, he could get away and get out of this house. He readied himself, setting himself up for the quickest escape he could muster. The muffled words outside were becoming clearer, coming closer. Then Finland heard something he hadn't been expecting: gunshots.

A figure burst through the weak door, smashing on the ground with pieces of wood beneath him. He yelled, "Get down!" before leaping at Finland, the two bodies crashing to the floor. Finland was dazed, but grabbed a chance to look at the man. He was covered head to toe in black, his face hidden under a ski mask. Violet eyes snapped open and the man was on his feet, dragging Finland up with him.

"Who are you?" Finland inquired, not remembering the attack on his home.

"Not right now," the man responded, taking Finland with him swiftly through the broken door and down the halls. They were headed for the back exit, and Finland could obviously see why. Blood soaked the halls leading towards the front, lifeless bodies of the workers in his home scattered across the floor. Finland's breath caught in his throat. He felt like he wanted to vomit. What the _hell_ was going on here?

There was no time for questions, however, as more bullets splintered the walls just above their heads. Finland managed to get a glance of the familiar Russian soldiers bearing down on them before he was whisked from his home, crashing through a window for a quick escape. The man clad in black ran hard and fast. Finland dared not fall behind and felt adrenaline pumping through his veins and pushing him forward.

They were nearly a mile away when the ground shook beneath their feet. They could hear the soft moan of the earth erupt as fire sprang into the sky from the direction they came from. Finland stared, wide eyed, as flames lapped up his home. Smoke billowed happily as it engulfed the sky, boasting about its meal. Tino could feel his fighting spirit sway. His _home_ was completely destroyed. He continued to look back at the fire that had taken his home even while he was being dragged away by the other man.

"We're far enough away now. They probably thought we were still in the house, or else they wouldn't have blown it up." The man eyed the horrified nation, noticing the bruises and the constant shivering of his body. "_Finnland_," he said, placing his hand gently on the nation's shoulder. Finland jumped, finally looking at the man. Why did he look like he understood Finland's feelings?

The man removed his hand from Tino's shoulder and clasped a part of the cloth covering his face. He lifted the fabric away, revealing ivory skin, brown hair neatly strewn atop his head, and a single mole below his lip. Tino's eyes again widened in shock. "_Itävalta_?"

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><p><em><strong>Ruotsi:<strong>_ Sweden in Finnish

_**Finnland: **_Finland in German

_**Itävalta: **_Austria in Finnish

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><p>OH MY GOD. IT'S. AUSTRIA. Well, hopefully we'll learn what happened to him. Well, I'll be going then.<p> 


	13. Cruel Reality

**Quel:** Another installation is here! And I need to go make dinner, so I hope you enjoy.

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><p>The two watched the retreating form of the large man before looking at each other and releasing a deep breath. The looked down at the red stain that had trickled from the body of the man Russia had shot. It had been a warning of what was possible of this madman. But they were relieved that there was at least feint kindness as their chains were removed and they were given food. Well, it looked sort of like food. But Russia had always had an interesting taste. With their stomachs somewhat filled, they surveyed beyond the bars of the prison. Other cells lined across from them and beside them, covering the wall. It didn't seem that there were any others being kept there. The air was still and thick with fear. The four guards, two at both ends of the hall, stood rigidly, probably terrified to even breathe should it bring upon Russia's wrath.<p>

"England..?" a weary voice whispered from across the room. England jumped to the bars, trying to locate the body of the voice. He'd recognized it. He knew the person. How long had he been gone? There, only a cell down to the left of the one across from them, a thin shadow looked back at them. England went pale as he looked at the young boy. He was thin, improperly nourished. The fire that had always been in his eyes was slightly dull now, save for the faint flicker England noticed as the boy looked back.

"Hong Kong!" England called, blood rushing back into his face. He was relieved to see the young boy, although appalled by his poor health. "I was so worried. How long have you been here? Are the others with you? What's happened?" England's questions poured out, giving the small boy little time to respond. England silenced himself as he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he saw France with a steely gaze upon the other shadow shifting behind Hong Kong.

"What's wrong?" France asked as England looked back to the boy. A frail looking girl appeared, looking at them with an unreadable expression.

"We've been in here for about a week," she responded, a ghostly whisper of a voice.

"They haven't fed us or given us water since we arrived," Hong Kong added, his voice hoarse.

"How did this happen? When were you caught?" England pried.

"We were never caught," Taiwan answered. "We came of our own free will."

"You offered yourselves up as _prisoners_?" France asked, aghast.

"Not prisoners," Taiwan retorted. "We were offered safety by Russia and were considered _Zhōngguó_'s guests,"

"_Hyung_, he-he's gone mad," came a strained voice. France and England both stared as the shell of the nation they had once called Korea. He looked terrible, dirty bandages wrapped around his abdomen and his head. "Something's wrong with him, _Yeong-gug_. He's nothing but hatred now," England felt Korea's lifeless eyes boring into him.

"He's _not_ just hatred, _Hánguó_," Taiwan growled.

"That doesn't matter right now," France snapped, causing the three Asian nations to look at him. "How did you end up _here_?" he demanded, looking at the three weakened faces for answers.

Korea stepped forward, his pale, thinned figure coming alight. The prison was cold, yet Korea wore only the bandages on his chest and his usual pants, although their normal whiteness had become a grey that made France grimace. "It was my fault," he replied weakly, defeated. "I knew that there was an attempt to rescue _Migug_ and that _Jung-gug_ fought _Ilbon_. He didn't like that I mentioned it," Korea added, looking down, hiding the disgust he felt for himself. He flinched when he felt the cold hand of Hong Kong on his bare arms.

"It wasn't your fault, Korea," he said, looking up at the languid face. "It's happened for a while now, China losing his composure," Hong Kong said, looking back to the older countries. "He's changed. All he thinks about is getting rid of Japan,"

"That's a lie," Taiwan roared, rounding on Hong Kong. But Hong Kong only glared back.

"You know it's not, Taiwan. When did you start caring for him? You always acted like you didn't care about him. When did that change?" he snarled, the fire rekindling in his soul. Taiwan dared not respond, her eyes losing all fight.

"I… I just can't believe it. Why does he want to hurt him so much? What did _Rìběn_ ever do wrong?" she said faintly, Korea and Hong Kong looking at her softly. England remembered conversing with Japan about Taiwan. He had said that she enjoyed being with him than with China. While Hong Kong never had made a preference, Japan had said China was beginning to feel that the boy was slowly looking up to Japan instead. Only Korea seemed to have his thoughts on China, but China always ignored and was annoyed by the nation.

"Russia put us in here after China's last offense," Hong Kong said, gesturing toward Korea.

England and France shared a worried glance before looking back at the three weakened nations.

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><p>England had spoken to Hong Kong for some time after that while France leaned against the wall next to him. He had dozed off by now, his breathing slow and warm against England. Food and water had been delivered to them, but they refused to touch it after seeing what condition their neighbors were in. Russia was due to talk to them soon, or so he had stated. They wouldn't be surprised if he decided not to. The two nations didn't exactly enjoy being in the company of the insane man.<p>

But as England was about ready to fall asleep—Hong Kong had already drifted off during their talk—England heard steps echoing through the hall.

"Ah, _Angliya_, it seems you're the only awake," said Russia as he appeared before England. "Oh, it seems you haven't touched your food. I thought it was courteous to eat another's food when you're a guest."

"Guest?" England dared to scoff, catching Russia's attention. "We're not your guests, Russia, and we're not your friends, so don't go getting the wrong idea,"

"Brave words," Russia said curtly, glowering down at England. Arthur knew he had spoken dangerously to Russia, but couldn't stand the treatment of the nations across from them. "I see," Russia added, England replacing his fierce gaze for a second with surprise before the anger returned. "It's not their fault that they're in here," he said, gesturing to the cell in which the Asian nations were sleeping. England could just make out the faint outline of Hong Kong resting against the wall uncomfortably. "I gave _Kitaĭ_ the chance to keep them safe, but he decided not to listen. And this is the result. He treats them like prisoners, they _will _be prisoners."

"And what gives _you_ the right to decide who is and isn't a prisoner?" England snapped back.

"_I _did not decide," Russia snarled, "_he_ did. And _you two_ are my guests because I do not wish to be your enemy."

"Fat chance," England scoffed. Russia gazed down at England, disdain burning in his eyes. "You only want our land. You want no one to challenge you. That's why you tried taking out America. You thought the rest of us would fall with him. But you're wrong! And now he's free. You're finished, Russia, you know that? You've got no chance of winning." England glared defiantly up at the larger nation.

Russia tsked England, shaking his head slowly back and forth. He brandished the gun again. England held back a gasp, covering it with hatred and malice as he looked at the nation. He held up to Arthur's forehead and cocked it. "One—you're welcome to take back your words." England didn't move, staring down the barrel of the gun. "Two—it doesn't have to be this way." England pressed his head against the gun. "Fine then," Russia sighed. "Three—Oh, send my regards to _Finlyandia_," Russia added as he pulled the trigger.

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><p><strong>Translations and Pronunciations<strong>

_Zhōngguó:_ China in Chinese

_Hyung:_Older Brother in Korean

_Yeong-gug:_England in Korean

_Hánguó:_ Korea in Chinese

_Ilbon:_ Japan in Korean

_Migug:_ America in Korean

_Jung-gug:_ China in Korean

_Rìběn:_ Japan in Chinese

_Angliya:_ England in Russian

_Kitaĭ:_ China in Russian

_Finlyandia:_ Finland in Russian

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><p><strong>Quel:<strong> Many of you may be wondering why I didn't make Hong Kong speak Chinese. There's a simple explanation for that. Hong Kong has two official languages: English and Chinese. So when he talks to China, he'll speak Chinese (and the other Asian nations unless England's around). He speaks English when he talking to England.

Well, let's hope for another chapter soon. They're getting longer (maybe). Time to make dinner! Goodbye.


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